


The Sanguine Solution

by SucculentStrawberries



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bad Ending, Blood Kink, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Corpses, Corruption, Cutting, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Doki Doki Literature Club! Spoilers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Knifeplay, Love, Love Confessions, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Non-Canonical Character Death, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, One Shot, POV First Person, Self-Harm, Stabbing, Suicide, Talking To Dead People, Unreliable Narrator, Whump, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SucculentStrawberries/pseuds/SucculentStrawberries
Summary: Why play Seven Minutes in Heaven with your love when you can play Three Days in Hell?The Protagonist has a lot of time to think while he's stuck in the classroom with what's left of Yuri... Time to think of a potential answer to his problems...
Relationships: Protagonist/Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The Sanguine Solution

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't what I had planned to write for Valentine's Day but... this is what came out over a few hours of sudden inspiration c': It was delayed posting due to power outages, so here it is a few days late!
> 
> I'll write something fluffy or legit smutty for this pair one day. But for now, you get experimental formatting and the Protagonist if he snapped and decided to just up and go feral~ I hope someone enjoys!

_ "I want you all to myself. And I will be only yours. Doesn't that sound perfect?! Tell me. Tell me you want to be my lover?" _

It did sound perfect. It sounded more perfect than anything I could imagine. How long had I waited for this day? Dared to dream of it? 

She was shaking. I wondered if I was shaking more. My heart was pounding.

_ "Do you accept my confession?" _

**> [YES]**

[NO]

~~~

_ Disaster. Death. Defeat. _

_ Time. _

She's staring. Always staring. 

She was always staring at me. 

We would talk, and her eyes would light up.

Her eye would slide off of her face.

Her eyes were staring at me.

Her eyes were staring into me. Right into me, shaking. Boring into my chest like a drill, cracking my rib cage.

I can't stop staring into her eyes. I can't move my head. I stare and I stare and I stare-

She doesn't stare back. Those vacant, graying vessels don't hold light or wisdom in them. 

_ Hopeless. _

I want her to stare at me. I wish she would stare at me.

_ Alone. Broken. _

I wish I could pull out the knife wedged in her rib cage. 

A plain, dull kitchen knife. She deserves more. She deserves better. A girl so vibrant and so elegantly-formed deserves a fitting end to her life. Not to rot with a rusty blade on a dirty classroom floor.

I want to vomit.

I want to cry.

I want to sit on the floor with her. A clean floor, with our novel between us.

I want to laugh. I want to smile.

I want to pull out the knife wedged in her rib cage.

I want to crack open my ribcage and plunge the knife inside.

_ Disoriented. _

I remember the hallway. I remember Yuri standing in the hallway.

I remember the smile she had on her face before she saw me. 

I want to feel the rush she did. I want to feel the elation and force of the love she held for me. I want to feel my chest being split, to feel my flesh part so that all of the feelings I've been struggling to bottle up inside can come pouring out of my veins.

_ Covet. _

I want to succumb to the overwhelming, agonising love I have for  **[REDACTED]**

I want to be with her. I want to follow her route to the end. 

_ Eternity. _

I can't move.

The knife is resting on the tile floor, just as she is resting. She's resting. The dying light of the sun in the window beyond reflects dimly on the metal surface, and the pool of liquid.

The blood coating the blade is rust-coloured, and darkening with the encroaching shadows of our second evening.

The moon's glow will highlight her graying complexion nicely. 

The stray splatter on her cheek highlights her complexion nicely. I would have placed a kiss there. 

I would have held her hand while I kissed her.

Her hands are warm in the relative chill of my room. Her hands glide in the finger paint easily, forming a stunning array of colours in the sunset banner.

Her hands are cold and grey. The crust staining her fingers is muddy and has no hope of matching the complexities of the sunset.

I want to paint with her. 

I can't take my eyes off of her.

The eyes are always watching us.

The russet paint is sticky and clings to my hands, running through my fingers in thick globs of plasma, only to loosen back into liquid. It stains every crack in my skin. 

The perfume of metal fills my senses. I inhale heavily, drinking it in, and suppress the urge to gag. I bring my finger to my mouth. I let my finger crawl towards my throat, blunt nails scraping the roof of my mouth. I want to choke.

I taste her blood the way she tasted mine. It doesn't taste as sweet as I had hoped it would. 

The bitter taste is what I deserve. 

I want to taste every inch of her. I want to drink in the essence of her.

_ Whirlwind. Imagination. _

I drag my soaking fingers across the canvas of the classroom. I trace the curving pathway of the knife from the pool and back again. I paint the blood-soaked sunset I see in the windows of her drying eyes. I paint with all vivid colours she has lost.

I paint words. I burn words into the forefront of my brain. I paint words out of sight of the prying eyes watching the corpse and the floor.

I want to paint some final words for her, and her alone. 

_ Vibrant. Vivid. Crimson. Raindrops. Heavensent. _

She would like this poem. She loves this poem that she can't see with her unblinking gaze in the pitch black of the room. The hours of the night stretch long and cold, hardening my handiwork into a layer of drying paste. When I crack my fingers at dawn, scarlet snowflakes fall into a pile of blackened powder. I inhale some of it, not that I notice. The room is thick with the scents of metallic tang and souring flesh.

The room is thick with the scent of her. I try to remember what she used to smell like.

Chocolate. Tea. Jasmine oil.

Essential oils.

_ 'I want to give myself paper cuts so that your skin oil enters my bloodstream.' _ That was what she'd told me in a fit of passion, with those wide, elated eyes I'd so often gotten lost in.

I want to cut myself. I want to give myself cuts so that her skin oil can enter my bloodstream.

I want to feel what she felt. I remember why I had wanted to grab the knife yesterday.

_ Entropy. _

I can't move. I can only stare at the results of my confession.

The butterfly knife is sharper than I had anticipated, and it was foolish of me to run my finger across the blade without thinking. It stings, and hot blood rushes up from the fresh white line on my finger, welling into a bead that swiftly drips down to caress my palm.

My heart pounds with panic, fear of what I've just done mixing with the exhilaration of the powerful knife still in my grip. If only light pressure had accomplished this damage so quickly, what could I do with a weapon like this if I  _ meant to _ ?

My throat is dry. My heart pounds. What blood isn't welling on my finger wishes to my face, warming my cheeks. I feel faint and breathless.

I feel faint and breathless. My heart pounds. My throat is dry and blocked by the lump that has prevented me from speaking. Any blood I possess in my body has rushed downwards. My cheeks are cold. Everything is cold. 

This room is so cold, she's turning blue. No, violet. She's turning violet. It matches her hair nicely.

My chest is burning. My eyes are burning with unshed tears, because I can't produce them. I haven't had anything to drink in three days. 

My arms are burning. My veins feel like they're on fire. My hands are cramping. 

_ Sensation. _

I keep clicking.

I keep cutting.

I can't move. I can only stare at the aftermath of my decisions.

I can't move from my place on the floor slumped against her. I let the limp hand fall into her outstretched one, so that our paint-stained fingers are intertwined. I watch the fresh scarlet flood the gashes in my sleeve and pant leg, dripping down to join the matte puddle I'm sitting on. In a few more days, mine will oxidize and match hers. Or maybe it won't.

The banner was a mess of our two different styles and colour schemes, effortlessly juxtaposed.

I click faster, and the text speeds.

I sit and stare into her eyes, failing to find my own bedraggled reflection in them. My frantic heartbeat slows to a crawl.

I want to faint.

I want to stay awake so that I can see her. I want to take in every inch of her. 

Every inch of the knife drags itself down my sternum, tracing the outline of my chest and making its way towards my pelvis. My shallow breath hitches, a shudder crawling up my spine. 

My body is on fire. 

Everything is cold. Everything is so cold.

Everything burns. Every line screams as the acrid, decaying air of the classroom hits exposed wounds. Bile sits heavily in my throat.

It can't muffle the moan that crawls from my lips. My mouth hangs open, saliva dripping numbly from one corner. The heat in my lower belly is dizzying. The pressure and release with each fresh cut makes my head spin, heavy, throbbing pain and pleasure intertwining into a knot. 

Wetness beyond the bloodstains leaks into my pants, and I think about the pen.

I wonder if it's still in her bag.

I can't see her bag in the room. I can't turn my head.

I don't have the energy to get up and look. My vision is blurring anyway. I couldn't find it if I wanted to.

It doesn't matter. I don't have time.

The sun is rising. The light shines like a halo around her. 

The light shines upon her filthy, reeking gray form like a street lamp upon a mangy raccoon.

_ Effulgent. _

I'm almost done clicking.

She's never looked more beautiful. She's all I care to look at. I slump over, letting my head rest on her shoulder. Her clammy skin sags and shifts beneath the weight of my cheekbones. I can feel the oil coating me.

My eyelids begin to droop closed. I fight my growing exhaustion, as hard as it is. It's so peaceful here, reading on the floor with her nestled against me.

I direct my gaze to our final poem, and for the first time in a long time, I smile. A giddy,  _ real _ smile, not a half-smile to appease a friend or a smirk after a witty comment.

_ Daydream. Insight. Determination. _

I think it's my greatest work. I'm sure she would agree. 

The cold is causing me to shiver, but I don't feel it. My blood is boiling, and my face is flushed in a fever as I grip the knife's handle in my remaining hand. It's almost impossible to keep a grip on, but I hold tight, like my life depends on it. 

Hah. Ironic. I squeeze her fingers a little tighter, inhaling what little air my lungs will allow. I force myself to speak, even if each word comes out like sandpaper. Even if she can't hear me.

She can hear me. I need her to hear me.

"So, I guess we got more than a whole day, huh?" Laughing hurts. Everything hurts. I find it hard to stop laughing, my breath coming out in a weak wheeze, like a deflating balloon.

"Wow... there really is something wrong with me, isn't there? There  _ must _ be, if you thought there was something wrong with you when you're so… so  _ perfect _ . But that's okay. I'm not worried. If I'm crazy, and you're crazy, then I don't want to be normal! I've never felt this good in my whole life! Not until I met you… Just being with you is a far greater pleasure than anything I could imagine. I'm addicted to you, Yuri… It feels like I'm going to die if I'm not breathing the same air as you…"

I don't think she'll mind that I basically plagiarized her confession. If every word she said to me rings just as true now, then me saying anything less would be a lie.

"Yuri. I love you. I love you so much  _ I can't stand it.  _ So…  _ please… _ Do you accept my confession?"

Within our intertwined embrace, I hear a slight crack as her fingers shift. I take it as a sign of encouragement. 

From down the hall, the sound of footsteps are approaching. It must be Monday. Our weekend is over already. The door handle jiggles and begins to turn.

_ Unrestrained. Explode. Climax. _

I stop clicking.

I plunge the knife deep into my chest, pushing as hard as I can with my remaining hand. It slips and slides, forming a jagged mess as I attempt to navigate it. I'm no knife expert like Yuri, after all. All I can do is my best. 

After some trial and error, I succeed in plunging it into my heart, and the sound I make as I gasp for breath and arch my back, ecstasy rocking my body to the core, is drowned out by screaming. I hear gagging and splattering on the other side of the room. The stench of the same vomit I'd held back a few days ago cut through the oils I was surrounding myself with, and my smile slipped into a similar frown to my beloved next to me.

_ Despise. Fester. _

_ Goddamn, Natsuki. It's too early in the morning for this… _

_ She was right. You need to quiet down, you obnoxious brat. You really are a pathetic child… _

I would tell her that too, if blood wasn't surging through my throat and pouring down my chin to drench my shirt, my stomach clenching uselessly beneath it. 

_ Massacre. Uncontrollable. _

There's no need to play nice anymore. I don't need to bother appeasing any of these bitches. I got what I wanted.

Ignoring the scene and voices invading my field of vision, I let my eyes drift to the blended pool below, fresh drops falling into it from the handle of the knife still lodged in my chest. I observed with speckling vision as it rose and fell with each laboured, inconsistent breath. I observed my glassy-eyed, lovestruck reflection, still flushed with lust and satisfaction. I observed the woman I loved more than anything, the one I had devoted my life to, resting next to me. 

_ Suicide. Afterimage. Infinite. _

I have everything I need right here.

_ Embrace. Peaceful. Joy. Hope. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment (anon is also fine) or kudos, I love hearing from you all! ❤ Please stay safe!~


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